


Truth and Trust

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: The Zine Collection [10]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Blood and Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Past Relationship(s), Post-Fall of Overwatch, Trust, Trust Issues, Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: “Will you listen to me now Jack?” It’s Gabriel speaking now, a softness to the growl that threatens to destroy Jack more than violence ever could. “One more time?”They'd trusted each other once. That was a lifetime ago, before truth had become flexible and everything had fallen, but they might need to trust each other again.





	Truth and Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the They Loved Each Other zine.

    The blow when it came was unexpected, slipping through his defences and sending the old soldier reeling backwards, a cracking noise ringing in his ears as he felt the lower part of his mask shatter and fall away. There was blood in his mouth, and more creeping down his chin from where the fragments had caught his skin, but it’s a minor concern, especially compared to the way the visual feed from his visor wavers, red turning to grey before disappearing completely. Just before he’s plunged into black he catches a glimpse of Reaper lunging towards him, the bone mask looming out of the shadows just before the world disappears. It’s enough, old instincts taking hold as he lifts his arm to block the blow that he knows will follow, baring bloody teeth in a defiant snarl.

He knows Reaper, and he knows the man behind the mask.

    Or rather, he used to, he realises a moment too late as the heavy footsteps abruptly change pace, slipping to the side and he’s too slow to react. Caught by surprise as a chill mist embraces his face before an armoured elbow slams into his chest, and cold metal connects with the side of his head, sending him tumbling to the ground and ripping the visor away completely. His head is ringing, thoughts jumbling together, fresh blood filling his mouth and heart aching, because there had been a time when he would’ve met that blow with ease, parried it and returned it without a thought. There had been a time when they’d been evenly matched, any fight between them a deadly dance, each knowing exactly where the other was going to turn and moving to meet them. It had been as easy as breathing.

Two hearts, one heartbeat.

     That ease, that balance was broken. Gone. It shouldn’t be a shock, after all, any semblance of that closeness had turned to ash in the ruins of their home, their dream. Yet, he finds himself lying there stunned, pain that has nothing to do with the pounding that’s taken hold of every inch of his body gripping him, grief twisting his expression. He’d tried telling himself that everything between them was long gone, that Reaper was the enemy and nothing more. He’d tried to convince himself that Ana was right and that the past should remain where it was. He’d always been good at lying to himself, and he closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Reaper prowling around him, circling him like a predator readying for the kill and laughed, a horrible, broken noise that grated in the back of his throat.

   He’d always been good at lying to himself, apart from when it came to Gabriel, and there had been a part of him, a tiny, desperate part that refused to die that had hoped that Reaper wasn’t the enemy, that for once Ana wasn’t right and that he still knew the man beneath the mask. He’d been wrong, and now it was too late.

Too late.

It was the story of his life.

  The grating laugh cut off as he finally moved, rolling onto his back with difficulty, fire rippling through the wounds littering his body, drawing a groan from him despite his best efforts to bite back the noise. He made no effort to rise, laying there, sightless eyes fixed on the sky above him. It had been nearing dawn according to the last reading the visor had given him, and he wondered if the light had begun to touch the horizon yet, letting his eyes drift shut as he thought back to other sunrises. To the mornings when they had stumbled from their bedrolls to watch the sun come up, proof that they had survived another day. To the mornings leant against the railings at the Watchpoint, steaming mugs in hand, Gabriel sleepily taunting him that his was more sugar than coffee as they watched the sun rising, proof of the peace they’d created. And to the mornings in bed, Gabriel curled around him, covers tangled between them as Athena lifted the blinds to let them watch as pale fingers of light painted the mountains around them with colour.

     It was fitting, in a way that twisted painfully somewhere deep in his chest that things should come to an end here and he tilted his head towards Reaper.

“What are you waiting for?” There had been a time when he’d thought that he’d be bitter when this moment came, especially when the answers he was searching for were still out of his reach, but now he felt not quite empty or peaceful, but close…ready, perhaps? He wasn’t sure, but there was no fear as Reaper paced towards him, a chill sweeping across his skin as mist caressed his face and his breath caught as he felt Reaper leaning over him.

“Why?”

    The old soldier had been braced for many things, for cold metal against his temple and a final deafening crack, for claws around his throat and the sound of his own strained breathing. He hadn’t been ready for that question, or for the depth of emotion contained within that single word. Reaper’s voice was a ruined mockery of Gabriel’s, a ruined growl that was another harsh reminder of how much things had changed, of how much Gabriel had changed. Or maybe not, because he had never thought that Reaper would hesitate to claim his kill, let alone that he would attempt to start a conversation, after all, he’d made it plain that they had nothing left to talk about the last time they had clashed. “Why?” He found himself echoing, not entirely sure what was being asked. Why did I come? Why am I giving up? W-why do I still care about you? There were too many possibilities and too many tangled emotions caught up in each one, a lump rising in his throat, as he waited for an answer.

    There was silence for several minutes, and it was so quiet that Jack might’ve believed that he’d been left behind were it not for the feeling of mist still curling against his skin, and so he forced himself to wait. Finally, Reaper moved again, leather creaking before he heard the other man sigh, the sound tugging at his memories. It was the same exasperated sigh that had always preceded Gabriel into his office, when he had come to drag Jack away from work to eat and sleep, or when he’d been given a mountain of paperwork after his agents had caused a little too much havoc. It was a glimpse of the man that no longer existed, of a past that no longer matters and Jack turns his head away from the noise, trembling. He can face death without fear, but the thought of those memories, of those feelings that have never truly faded at least on his side, has him shaking and curling in on himself.

    It’s a shock when he finally feels the claws he had been expecting before, only rather than seeking his blood, they’re gentle and almost cautious, tracing the path of the scars that bisects his face before coming to rest against his chin, tilting his face back towards Reaper. He hates the part of him that still longs to be able to see, the part that aches to catch a glimpse of Gabriel’s face one last time, no matter how ruined it is, and he closes his eyes in defiance against that part of himself. For a moment the claws tighten, not enough to break his skin but close before they relax once more although he’s not released. “Why didn’t you trust me, Jack? Why didn’t you listen to me when it really mattered?”

    Anger is his first reaction, a snarl bubbling in the back of his throat because he had trusted Gabriel, possibly too much and he’d tried to listen, but between them, they’d managed to build an insurmountable wall. The anger is momentary though, and in its wake, comes the deep, aching grief that has haunted him since Zurich. The questions aren’t unexpected if anything they’ve been a long time coming and perhaps it is what they both need to hear the answers. However, the timing surprises him, because they’re long past the point where the questions or the answers will make a difference to anything, that’s evident in the fact that they’re here, still on opposite sides of that wall. And why now? When by all rights Reaper should just pull the trigger and put an end to things, however, the silence is telling. Gabriel is waiting for an answer, and Jack had never been good at holding out against that expectant silence, and it had always been one of Gabriel’s most effective tactics when they were arguing, and apparently, that hasn’t changed because Jack sighs, letting his head fall back, weighing his words.

 “I did trust you.” That had been part of the problem he reflected. He’d trusted Gabriel above all others, ruthlessly suppressing any flickers of doubts, even when faced with the whispers and Gabe had started to look away, avoiding his gaze, leaving words unspoken and masked by sharp retorts. If he had acted sooner, asked for more information, demanded answers, then maybe things could’ve ended differently for Blackwatch, for Overwatch…for them.

    It’s a thought that’s haunted him through the lonely nights, with nothing but a torn photo and the sharp burn of alcohol to keep him company and that pain bleeds into his voice. “I trusted you even when people were screaming at me not too. Even when I had doubts, your voice was the one I listened to and-.”

“And?”

“That hasn’t changed.” The words tiptoe out, rawer and more honest than he’d intended and it stuns him to realise just how much he means it. Reaper has put bullets in him, threatened the few people he still holds dear and hunted him across the world, but there’s still a part of him that can see Gabriel beneath the mask. A part of him that still wants to trust him. Reaper shifts again and this time the claws still resting against his chin do bite into his skin, and there’s a muffled curse as blood begins to trickle down his chin and the claws are wrenched away.

“Then why…”

“You weren’t talking to me at the end,” Jack replied, not accusing, but blank. The memories of those days still hurt, a wound that had never fully healed, but it was a familiar ache, and he shook his head slightly, stopping the noise of protest from Gabriel before it could blossom into something more and continuing just as quietly. “Not really. You told me what you thought I needed to know. I don’t know if you were trying to protect me, or if some part of you didn’t trust me, but I was listening… and it wasn’t enough.”

“Are you saying that it was my fault?” There’s a threat in that question, but there’s also pain beneath the growled words that Jack doesn’t miss. It would be easy to blame Gabriel. There had even been days when he had, cursing his memory and those last weeks full of unspoken words. It had been easier still to blame himself, and he can feel the weight of that guilt pressing in on him now as he shakes his head, gathering his courage as he reaches out blindly.

“I’m not blaming you.” There’s a waver in his voice and a tremor in his fingers when he finds Reaper, curling them into the stiff fabric of his coat. “I’m blaming both of us.” That was what it boiled down to. If Jack had been less trusting and more forceful or if Gabriel had been more open with him, and if they’d hung onto the relationship they’d built up through the adversity of SEP and the Crisis and not let politics and the job crawl into the space between them. It’s too late, he reminded himself. These answers, these truths, they meant nothing.  They wouldn’t change the past, and he couldn’t see a future beyond this moment especially in the strained silence that had followed that last statement, and he was braced again, waiting for death to come as he let his hand fall away from Gabriel.

     Talons brushed his hand before fading away, mist dancing across his skin before cool fingers catch his and his breath catches at the touch. Instinct screams at him to pull back, but his heart wins out, aching as Gabriel’s fingers curl around his, still waiting for the pain that’s sure to follow. “Will you listen to me now Jack?” It’s Gabriel speaking now, a softness to the growl that threatens to destroy Jack more than violence ever could. “One more time?”

“Yes…”

 


End file.
